I wrote a book

And it was exhausting. More than I would have ever believed. Actually writing the book was a long and arduous process, perhaps compounded by the fact that it was about my own life and I didn’t always want to re-live some parts of the story. It’s also extremely hard to be objective about your own experiences but I was helped there by friends and the passage of time.

The publishing part was just as exhausting. It was a long road to decide to self-publish. It went through interactions and offers from a small publishing company, a literary agent and a crowd-sourced publisher, and again, much time. But I’m not even talking about that, I’m talking about the last few months and weeks. I’m talking about things like setting up a publishing company, losing sleep over the thought that the cover design wouldn’t be ready in time and cancelling other plans to take a bus across the city to debate semantics and marketing. It took priority over everything else, and it often did not go as expected.

Somehow, it’s all worth it though. I don’t know how many people will read it. I don’t know what they will think. But I do know it’s out there, I do know that I thought it was not just a story worth telling, but a story worth telling right. And that meant years of writing and learning. It meant losing sleep or missing out on other things because this project took priority. Still, this is a dream realized and whatever else happens, that part will remain true.